


My Crime Scene, Your Case

by CardinalMark



Series: My Way or the Highway [1]
Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, First Meetings, Original Character(s), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardinalMark/pseuds/CardinalMark
Summary: Rule breaking, Sargent Hank Voight of CPD's Intelligence Unit meets his match in CPD's Sargent Rory LaCroix, second in command of the Forensic Science Unit.  Will their first meeting lead Rory back down her South Side Irish families roots of street justice and law breaking?  Or will she find the balance she's been searching for and be the the one who tames Voight?  Time will tell...
Relationships: Hank Voight/Original Female Character(s)
Series: My Way or the Highway [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102109
Kudos: 16





	My Crime Scene, Your Case

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoy exploring the everyday of a character and characters that the limitations of a TV show or other media just don't have the room or time. Something about Jason Beghe and his portrayal of Hank Voight has my ovaries in overdrive! As the CPD show hasn't hinted at a love interest for Voight, I have an idea for a strong female character that is a balance or foil to Voight that I want to explore. Enjoy!

Rory had spent enough time first as patrolman with the child investigative unit and now as a detective with the forensic services unit to know the sooner she established what she said goes at her crime scenes the smoother the evidence collection, the court case, and hopefully the conviction. She’d gained a reputation as a no nonsense cop who would do anything to ensure proper evidence collection procedures were followed to ensure no surprises at trial. She wasn’t above breaking the rules or following her own moral compass as long as the paper trail had the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed. The how of getting there didn’t matter so much as getting justice for the victims, their families and loved ones. 

So when she spies this _cop_ , just waltzing into her crime scene and potentially contaminating it, all evidence collection paused. Even the cocktail chatter between her team and the throng of Chicago’s finest milling about turned to whispers. 

_Waiting._

Knowing what was coming down on the head of the cop with the salt and pepper graying hair.

He had walked over to the face down body and started patting it down. First the back pockets, then sliding his hands along the man’s hips to the front pockets. At least he had enough sense to put gloves on and move the body minimally. 

Just catching the movement of an intruder into her room in her peripherals, she continued to twirl her power filled brush in her finger tips. The dusting powder was ridiculously fluorescent pink and was covering what remained of the coffee table. Catching movement to her left, she scowled back at the forensic tech working the room with her, giving a stern head shake. Her silent communication was not lost on their interloper. 

Pausing mid-way through twirling, she slowly pivots in her crouch toward the interloper. Resting her gloved hand on her knee, ‘what the hell are you doing?’ She asks with deadly calm. 

It didn’t matter that her forensic techs had already photographed, processed, and cleared the body. Everyone on scene knew to send any cop that arrived to investigate the crime or whichever unit gets assigned the case to her first. Her forensic team has one of the highest success rates of evidence not getting thrown out. It was more than strictly following collection protocols. She knew it was her attention to detail and expecting the best of herself and everyone who worked with her day in and day out that was the recipe for her success. And the detectives who arrived before this one had been informed of the chain of command.

Catching the eye of the older crime scene tech, ‘I didn’t know this was bring your kid to work day.’ Voight snarked with a smirk.

Rory had dealt with worse comments. Hell she had dealt with more asshole chauvinists in the Army than she had since joining the ranks of the Chicago Police Department. Schooling her features to a blank mask was only second to breathing. 

Not getting the rise he anticipated, ‘checking the vic for a wallet.’ He offered. ‘I don’t think he’ll mind’ he added casually with that same smirk that was starting to get under skin. Keeping his voice low, it sounded like a soft rasp and gravelly hum. As if you could brew coffee in the back of his throat. 

Narrowing her eyes, her curiosity instantly piqued, she considered the man. She found herself cataloging him, looking for _something_ to shake loose the cobwebs in her exhausted brain. 

That voice. It sent a burning sensation running along her body that had her almost physically shrugging it off. 

_Almost._

Just too distinctive to not remember a voice like that she mused to herself. 

Yet she just couldn’t place the voice with the soft brown eyes that flicked back over at her as his hands paused patting the victims pockets. As quickly as he paused, he returned his gaze to his task. Dismissing her and resuming his search.

Pressing her lips into a fine line, she turned back to the coffee table. Scanning her work for areas that didn’t have print power. Dipping her brush back into the powder supply, she completed dusting the table. A quick nod and tilt of her head towards the field field tech assisting her, a silent communication between the two of them to continue processing the table without her. 

Standing up, humming ‘you get clearance to do that?’ She asked with annoyance and a cocked eyebrow.

‘ _My_ case. _My_ crime scene.’ He quipped dryly. 

Avoiding the various bits of evidence strewn around the table being processed, she stepped towards the body. Her bootied feet making quiet wooshing sounds as she stepped closer to the man invading her crime scene. 

‘ _My_ crime scene.’ She replied sharply. 

Her tone caught his attention. Putting his hands on his knees he slowly rose from his squat next to the body. Scurrying like mice, all the patrolmen and forensic technicians found whatever they were doing more interesting than usual. Voight perused LaCroix from head to toe. Eyes narrowing and lips thinning. She could see the sudden tightening of his shoulders and fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

All her education, training, and experience were not needed to read his body language. This one had a temper. Was likely rash. An in the moment guy. But it would help give an advantage in the likely fight to come.

Stepping away from the body, he stopped just shy of invading her personal space. She could feel the heat of his ire through his glare. As if he thought he could bore a hole through the back of her head if he stared hard enough into her cool green eyes. 

‘ _Your crime scene…’_ he said on an exhale, tension in his voice. A gruff rise to his tone.

Rory watched as his eyes flicked over her, looking for her badge. ‘... _Officer…’_ he drew out the word, mocking with a raised eyebrow. Continuing his steady glare with dark brown, almost black eyes. 

‘LaCroix.’ She finished for him, voice thrumming low. Lifting her shirt tail, exposing her badge and thin strip of flesh along her hip. ‘ _Sargent_ LaCroix,’ she replied automatically. 

‘Hmmmm,’ he replied acknowledging with a minute nod of his head. 

Rory caught the sharp shift of the man’s eyes from hers down to her hip. The flash of desire that crossed his face was unexpected. Her response to his perusal surprised her. She didn’t suffer boors. He was anything but boring so far. 

Green eyes flashed dangerously when his expression returned to frustratingly impassive. With a smirk, ‘AND. YOU. ARE. CONTAMINATING, ‘ she started with a deceptive softness running through her voice, ‘MY CRIME SCENE’, she added with a bark like command that had even the unformed patrolmen stop and stand at attention. 

‘My team is here recovering evidence and canvassing the neighborhood.’ He shrugged with a deadpan snark. 

‘With the aid of _MY_ forensic techs.’ Giving Voight a crooked grin, ‘at my crime scene.’ She hummed quietly, semi-annoyed.

‘You got _balls_ trying to steal my case.’ he retorted, pulling his head back at her at the abruptness of her reply. 

As he was about to turn, she stepped into his personal space, placing a palm firmly to his sternum. ‘I don’t care who you are. I don’t care if you're the damn pope,’ her voice playful but low. 

Following his eyes as they shifted down, gazing at the palm on his chest, she shifted. Bending down, reconnecting with his gaze, eye to eye, ‘I don’t want to have to shoot you.’ She added in a voice that equally chilled him and sent lightning straight to his groin. 

After a hard swallow, he blew out a derisive exhale. Humming as he leaned and rocked back towards his heels. Catching a familiar face approaching Voight over his left shoulder, her eyes shifted to the late arrival and back to Voights. Her shift added tension to his shoulders, lifting them towards his ears.

Smiling warmly at Olinsky, ‘Buongiorno L’investigatore Olinsky, come sta?’

‘Buongiorno L’investigatore LaCroix.’ Raising an eyebrow at her formal greeting, he replies with curiosity in his tone. 

A smirk slowly forming as he realizes she’s using the more formal greeting as she always says, she was taught to respect her elders. With an emphasis on the term _old_. 

Patting Voight's chest twice, ‘I don’t mind the paperwork,’ tilting her head to the side, ‘so much as I don’t want your blood contaminating _MY_ crime scene.’ She said with mischief crinkling the edges of her eyes. 

Looking at Al with a furrowed brow, Voight feels the sudden loss of her warm palm against his chest. ‘She’s serious’ he states, answering his questioning glare. ‘She hates it when her crime scenes get contaminated.’ He adds semi-amused. Giving Rory a friendly smile that borders on intimate. 

Voight is bombarded by a sudden sensation of possessiveness and a need to lash out at Al. Unsure of where or what’s the cause of the sudden swirl of emotions from warm comfort to hot anger, he tamps it all down. He’ll have to deal with it later. More like never. 

Miss reading his glare, she stopped him before he could retort. ‘See I don’t think you're following me.’ She says, pausing to regain his attention. ‘ _My_ crime scene. _Your_ case.’

Holding out her hand, ‘Sargent Rory LaCroix, Forensic Science.’ She said semi-amused at the mix of emotions crossing his face. 

Looking down, Voight exhaled roughly and grabbed her hand in firm shake. With a faint smirk, ‘Sargent Hank Voight, Intelligence.’ His even tone at odds with the sudden pounding of his heart. 

She reflexively gripped his hand. Comforted by his squeeze echoing hers. Feeling a sudden jolt at the rough scrap of his trigger finger along the backside of her hand. 

‘Almost none of my evidence gets thrown out. My team is good. Thorough.’ She said loud enough for all to hear. ‘Way I see it, my team covers your ass collecting and processing evidence. Making you and your unit look good.’ Her confident tone sent heat straight to his groin. It was absolutely sexy. 

Turning back, scanning the room, she jabs Al’s shoulder with her fist, ‘scan the room. Tell me what you see?’ She suggested, keeping her tone neutral. 

Slowly turning in place, scanning the room. With no wall between the kitchen and family room, the first floor space was warm, open. Noting the strewn papers across the floor, blood spatter, cracked picture frames on an end table. Signs of a struggle dominated the scene. 

‘Right,’ Al signed. ‘My gut is telling me this scene is too perfect.’ 

Giving a pat on his shoulder, ‘your gut has always been smarter than you Alvin.’ Voight replies with a cocky grin. 

At Olinsky’s bemused glare, ‘mmmmm, most criminals think they are smarter than everyone.’ she replied smiling. 

‘Hubris.’ she allowed. ‘Like Icarus, they’ll fly too close the sun.’ She stated, meeting Voight’s eyes with just a touch of amusement in her bold green eyes. 

Getting his dark brown eyes to turn from that heated glare to a soft, warm smirk had suddenly become a favorite activity of hers. Feeling a sudden loss of heat against her palm, she mentally shrugged off this sudden desire to get this man to smile with a bemused head shake. 

Sometime soon, probably late at night when she couldn’t sleep, she’d turn her psychologist alter ego onto herself to evaluate why this man was getting through her carefully constructed defenses, but not now. She had a crime scene to get squared away first. 

At Voight’s sudden shift towards her, a quick thrust of her hands up, palms forwards cuts him off before he has a chance to speak. ‘Ya, ya, ya, I know make _your case_ a priority,’ she laughs as she places a hand on Voight's forearm. Her touch lasting a few beats longer than trying to get someone’s attention or even being friendly. 

Nodding, Rory turns to Al, ‘I’ll call you once we’ve finished processing.’ 

_~END~_

**Author's Note:**

> I have a number fic ideas for this original female character [Rory LaCroix] paring and CPD's Hank Voight. I miss the counter-balance of Olinsky's and Dawson's characters to Voight's 'my way or the highway'. Rory is a CPD equal that can be a counter-balance and love-interest for Voight. I hope to add to this series frequently. ;)


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